Cold Wind to Valhalla
by Muffy Morrigan
Summary: Hunters are dying, Sam and Dean set out after the killer. To stop the Winchesters, the creature separates them, not physically, but by removing all memory of the other.Time is running out as they struggle to find answers.HurtDeanHurtSam Co-written by Abni
1. A Bit Short on Heroes

_A/N I—Muffy: This story started as a nebulous idea of who the Winchesters are and what it means for them (and the world) to be together. My beta Abni and I are writing this together, I am writing Dean and she is writing Sam. Lots of hurt to come folks. Lots and lots. And yes, we promise very regular updates! Thanks everyone in advance for reading and reviewing!_

_A/N II - Abni: To everyone waiting for a sequel for my story Hitting Walls and Getting Scars – I haven't forgotten it, but life's been a little crazy lately, leaving me very little time for fanfic. I'm working on a few ideas and hope to start posting one or more stories soon. In the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy this story – thank you in advance for hits, reviews, favs and alerts! _

**Cold Wind to Valhalla**

**Chapter One**

_Midnight lonely whisper cries,  
We're getting a bit short on heroes lately.''—Jethro Tull_

**Part One**

**Dean**

It was a cold night, the wind had whipped up a storm that was creating havoc for travelers. What had started as rain in Seattle had drifted across the Cascades as slush, then sleet and finally snow was beginning to threaten the highways. The restaurant in George was packed. People were moving between tables in the crowded room looking for someplace to sit. Many were sharing with strangers, brief, odd moments of acquaintance springing up around the diner.

Dean was finishing his coffee watching people in the busy truck stop. _Nothing like a cold crappy night to make people congregate. _The coffee wasn't all that bad, the burger had been good. He was debating whether or not he wanted to drive the rest of the way into Spokane or just find a place in George and stay there. It wasn't a great night for travel.

He idly watched as a tall guy came out of the restroom. They'd been sharing the same itinerary for awhile. Dean had seen him in Seattle and Portland. He seemed to be hitchhiking in the same direction that Dean was traveling. The guy looked a little worse for wear. He was half tempted to offer him a ride into Spokane. He was surprised when the guy headed over to his table.

"Sorry, I didn't know anyone was sitting here." He picked up a laptop case and backpack from the other side of the booth, looking a little sheepish.

"It's ok, I didn't see your stuff," Dean said. He watched him walk out of the café and down the road. _I wonder if I should offer him a ride._ Dean tossed some cash on the table and headed out to his car. The rain had turned into sleet. It was miserable. _It'll probably start snowing tonight, I'd better keep going._

He was on his way to Montana, hunting something. He pulled out onto the road, a little sigh escaping his lips as he cranked the stereo. Montana seemed a long way off. Hunting was a rough gig, he had to admit that—the pay sucked, nobody said thank you, death was always a possibility, and it was lonely. Dean didn't mind being alone most of the time, most of his adult life he'd been alone. Oh, sure, he and his father had hunted together sometimes, but the year before he'd been killed his father had pretty much been MIA. After the accident, the road just seemed a little longer than it had before. Somehow knowing that someone was out there made it easier to keep going. Now there was no one.

_Of course, I have been hunting alone for a long time, with very few exceptions. And this is a nasty son of a bitch I'm after, I think._He wasn't quite sure what it was—it could be a demon, it could be something worse. He knew it had been causing trouble up and down the west coast, there had been a trail of bloody bodies left from San Francisco to Seattle—then east towards the Rockies. _Of course the worst part is it seems to be hunting us, the hunters. People I know are dying. And it is getting harder and harder to track. I wonder who's next on the list of happy meals for whatever it is? _Dean had been chasing it for awhile. He'd had a couple of near misses with it, and one close call before he had finally discovered a possible origin spot near Wisdom, Montana. He was on his way there to end its mischief once and for all.

_Near misses. That's a nice way to put it. Nearly dead? Better. _He rolled his shoulder, evidence of a recent run in with the thing. The wound was still healing. The stitches pulled occasionally. He'd been keeping an eye on it for infection, he managed to get some antibiotics at the clinic. _But really, what do I expect when I stop by a vet to get stitched up?__At least it wasn't as bad as the first time, that was a little too damn close.__I think I was in bad shape there for a day or two. _A memory unfolded, vague, of waking briefly in the hospital. _I thought dad was there, holding my hand. Unlike him, but I thought for a minute he was there. Someone was there. Someone for me. And I swear I heard someone say my name…?_

The hospital had been in Eagle Point, Oregon. He'd set out from there again as soon as he could, the reports of hunters dying reaching him on the road. _And then there was Jack. Poor Jack…_The memory of the man he'd been hunting with played in his head, the mangled body lying on the wet ground. _With the lovely view of Mount St. Helen's as a backdrop. He might appreciate being burned there, though. He talked about it a lot. _

He spotted the guy from the café trudging up the road. He drove past him. _What the hell, I should stop. What's the worst that can happen? He could turn out to be a serial killer and carve me into little pieces. But really, that might at least make an interesting drive. _He drove on a bit further, then decided that a little company on the road would make up for the guy turning out to be a serial killer. He swung the Impala around and headed back. He pulled up behind the guy and rolled down the window.

"Hey, where're you headed?" _He looks miserable._

The guy turned around with a "are you talking to me" look on his face. "Spokane."

"Want a lift?" Dean said. _Is this stupid? _

"Sure," the guy headed over and opened the back door. He threw his bags in back, pulling out a thermos from one of them and climbed in the front seat. "Thanks, the weather kind of sucks."

"Not even fun driving—it'll probably start snowing before Moses Lake."

"I was thinking about heading back into town. Thanks again for the lift." He smiled. "I have coffee," he said, holding up the thermos. "Want some?"

"Sure," Dean said, easing the Impala back onto the road. He took the cup the guy offered him and took a sip. _Not bad, well, actually, free coffee is a good thing, always a good thing. _He took another sip, the guy was watching him. _Weird, maybe a serial killer after all. _"Good coffee," he said with a smile.

"Thanks. I'm Sam, by the way," the guy said.

"Dean."

**Part Two**

**Sam**

The first shaft of pain tore through his brain the second he stepped out of the stall in the restroom. He knew at once what it was and braced himself for the increasing blinding pain that always accompanied his visions. _Dammit, I thought I was done with them, I thought they'd stopped for good after the demon died. Why are they back now?_

The pain brought him to his knees. He leaned against the wall as images started flashing in front of his eyes.

_A young woman burning up on the ceiling, calling his name._

_A woman leaning out the upper-storey window of a house, screaming for help._

_A man getting shot right in the forehead, his brain and blood splattering the walls behind him before he slumped to the ground, his lifeless eyes staring into nothingness._

_A dark shape standing over a cradle, turning as a dark-haired woman entered the room._

The images started attacking him more rapidly, each one assaulting his eyes and mind with the force of lighting, making it increasingly hard for him to make sense of them. He struggled to focus, to make sense of the images, to recognise the people in them, but the relentlessness of the vision tore his mind apart.

_A man shooting another man in a gun store._

_A woman setting herself on fire, turning into a walking funeral pyre._

_A woman jumping from a dam._

_A man sitting in a chair, begging for his life, then the sound of gunshots._

_The red splash of blood on his hands when he cuts a man's throat._

_Someone hunting him through a warehouse, then himself shooting the man, feeling a stab of satisfaction – joy? – when he disappears into the water. _

_A man – no, a demon – taunting him, telling him that he's the best of his generation, that he's the leader. The same demon letting drops of blood drip into the mouth of an infant boy. _

_The image of hundreds of demons exploding from the gates of hell. The demon smiling at him, saying "I'm proud of you. I knew you had it in you!"_

_A heavy weight on his shoulders, the man's blood flowing down Sam's neck, soaking through his shirt. A sense of panic when he realises the man had stopped breathing. _

He opened his eyes with a gasp, trying to make sense of the myriad of images assaulting him. The images were blurred, more like flashes of emotions and pain than clear pictures of people and places. He thought he recognised some of the people and events, but others remained unclear, out of reach. _Dammit, it's never been like this before. I know some of these were memories, but are they all or were some of them visions? Did I actually kill those people? _The feel of blood on his hands came unbidden to his mind, and he struggled to rise and frantically started washing his hands as if the blood were still there.

_I did. I killed them. But why? And those others… Are they… are they someone I'm going to kill? It's all a blur. I'm not a killer. Am I? What did the demon say? He has… had… plans for me. Have I already carried out those plans? Was that… what happened in the cemetery… Did I do that? Did I open that gate? No… No, it can't be. I'd never do that… But he… it… said… it said it was proud of me… But then someone killed it… _

He frowned in confusion, his memories blending with the vision he'd just had. _Or were they all memories, I wonder? It felt like a vision, though. _

He splashed some cold water onto his face hoping that would help him clear his mind. Then he slowly raised his head and looked at his reflection in the mirror. _Am I a killer? No. I'm a hunter. If I killed those people… They probably weren't even people, they may have been shapeshifters, or maybe they were possessed. _He straightened his shoulders at that thought, wiped the water from his hands and face and walked out the restroom.

When he set out for the table where he'd left his backpack and laptop, he noticed a guy sitting in the booth. He had seen the guy before, in the last couple of cities he'd been through. The guy was hard to miss, or rather his car was, the memory of the beautiful 1967 Chevy Impala bringing a slight smile to his face. _Who wouldn't want to drive a thing like that. I wish Dad hadn't sold his to buy the truck. _

The memory of his father brought him a different kind of pain. He still regretted the years wasted while he was at Stanford; years in which he hadn't spoken to his father. After the death of his girlfriend, Sam had set out on a search for his father in the hope that together they might be able to find the demon who had killed both Jessica and Sam's mother. They had only just met up and started talking again when John had died, leaving Sam alone in the world with nothing but a bag full of weapons and a smouldering need for revenge. Revenge on the demon and on anything supernatural that dared to cross his path – or whose path he came across during his endless research.

That need for revenge had brought him here to George, Washington. He'd been following a bloody trail of bodies from San Francisco to Seattle and then eastwards towards Wisdom, Montana, where the whole thing might have started. He didn't know yet what the thing was, he only knew that it was supernatural, and it was killing people. And that was enough for him.

He stopped his train of thoughts when he reached the table. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was sitting here," he said, picking up his bags from the bench across from the Impala guy. "It's ok, I didn't see your stuff," the guy answered. For a second, Sam considered sitting down and ordering a cup of coffee before heading out into the rain. It had been a while since he'd had company, and a few minutes' talk would be nice. Then he noticed how the rain had turned to sleet and realised that he'd have to take off before it got worse to have any chance of hitching a ride towards Spokane, so instead he headed out of the café and started down the road.

_Great night for hitchhiking. With my luck, there'll be no one out and about for hours, and this weather sucks. Big time. _He pulled his coat a little closer to him, trying to hunch his 6 foot 4 frame against the sleet. _Why couldn't the freaking thing just have stayed down in San Francisco instead of heading up here? _He sighed. _Oh well. No way around it, I need to get to Wisdom before that thing kills again. No matter how bad the weather is._

He was so lost in thoughts that he didn't hear the approaching car before it had already driven past him. He recognised the taillights as those of an Impala and realised it was the guy from the café._He keeps haunting me, it seems. _He felt himself tense instinctively at the thought that the man might actually be following him. _Shit. What if he's possessed? I've had enough demons on my ass to last a lifetime. I'll check him out if I run into him again. Maybe even make a few calls and run his plates in a couple of databases, see if a name comes up. _

He trudged on, then paused when he noticed the red glare of brake lights up ahead. He stood still and watched suspiciously while the car turned around and head back towards him. Soon after, the black Impala stopped beside him, and the guy rolled down his window.

"Hey, where're you headed?" the guy said.

Sam looked at him warily. "Spokane." _What business is that of his? Who is that guy?_

"Want a lift?"

_Is this wise? But it would be nice to get out of this sleet. And I've got a bottle of holy water in my pocket, not to mention my .45 with silver bullets, so even if the worst happens and he turns out to be a demon or some other creature, he won't get the drop on me. _

"Sure," Sam said, then headed over to the back door. He opened it and tossed his bags inside, then grabbed his backpack and pulled out a thermos._Nice hot coffee. Great in this weather. Oh and with a little added holy water. Coffee sanctus, anyone? Wonder if I might convince Starbucks to sell the stuff. That would make my life so much easier, I could just sit there and wait for people to start smoking out of their mouths. _

He walked to the passenger seat and got into the car. "Thanks, the weather kind of sucks."

"Not even fun driving – it'll probably start snowing before Moses Lake."

"I was thinking about heading back into town. Thanks again for the lift." Sam smiled at the guy. _Have to act friendly; I'm not suspicious at all. Nope. Would you like a coffee sanctus, sir?_ "I have coffee," he said. "Want some?"

"Sure," the guy said as he pulled the car back onto the road, "Back in Black" blaring from the speakers. He took the cup of coffee that Sam offered him and took a sip at once. Sam looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, trying to do it surreptitiously. No reaction from the guy. _Guess he's not a demon after all. Nope, there, he took another sip, no smoke._ Sam relaxed slightly and screwed the cap back onto the thermos.

"Good coffee," the guy said, frowning slightly but smiling all the same.

"Thanks. I'm Sam, by the way." _Guess he saw me watching him after all. Oh well. Doesn't hurt to make him a little suspicious of me too, that way he'll keep his distance. I don't want him looking too closely at my things. _

"Dean."

_**To Be Continued**_


	2. With the Angels of the Night

_A/N Muffy: Sorry it's taken awhile to get this chapter up. The next will come faster, promise, but to make it up to you all we've decided to post a nice LONG chapter rather than breaking it up into smaller bits. We've also decided to add a little of our antagonist, so we can see a little better the plans it has for the boys._

**Cold Wind to Valhalla**

**Chapter Two**

**With the Angels of the Night**

**Dean**

It was a bad night, and steadily getting worse. The sleet had given way to snow and maneuvering the Impala on the increasingly slick road was taking all of Dean's concentration. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the guy—Sam—holding onto the edge of the seat as the car slewed around on the slick road.

"I'm getting the feeling we should have just stayed in George," he said just to break the silence of the car. _What's the point of traveling with someone if you just sit and stare?_

"Yeah. Driving these old cars in weather like this can be a bitch. My dad had one, and I remember he used to complain a little on icy nights," Sam said with a bitter laugh.

"Really? He had good taste in cars. What kind? He still have it?"

"No, he sold it years ago. Too bad, I kind of liked it."

"Nothing like the classics," Dean said. _Nice to talk about my baby. _"Why don't you dig out some new music?" They were on the fourth replay of "Back in Black."

Sam grabbed the shoebox full of tapes and peered in dubiously. "Cassette tapes? Can you even get these anymore?" He pawed through the tapes, a little scowl on his face. Finally he glanced over at Dean. "I have no idea what to pick."

"Fine, whatever, grab Zeppelin." He watched as Sam put the new tape in the stereo. _Great, I pick up the hitchhiker without taste in music. _"You have family in Spokane?"

Sam looked at him with a frown. "No, I'm actually going on further," he said.

"Oh, really? Me too," Dean said. The frown on Sam's face deepened. _Hmm, wonder what that's about. Weird, we've been heading the same direction this whole time. I've never seen him hunting, but could he be one of us? That could make this trip much more interesting. _"Where're you headed then?"

Sam shrugged. "Montana."

"Oh?" _Oh, really? Coincidence? Hunter? Something else? Great. I think I would have preferred the serial killer, at least then I would know what's going on. _

"Yeah, you?" Sam said, his voice reflecting suspicion.

"Montana," Dean said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

Sam turned and stared out the window. The frown remained on his face. Three songs later he looked back over at Dean. "Weird coincidence," he said with a laugh. "Depending on where you're going maybe I could catch a lift? I'd be willing to share gas."

_Oh, you would, would you? _"Yeah, maybe." Dean laughed, trying to dispel the odd tension in the car. "If you can take the music."

"That could be a problem," Sam said, smiling. "I'll let you know when my ears start bleeding."

"Thanks," Dean said. He sighed. _Damn, I'm torn between wanting to talk and wondering what the hell is up with this guy. I wonder what dad would have said about that? Or Jack? Of course, Jack was never as suspicious of people as dad. And now you're dead because of it, aren't you Jack? Learning that the thing can appear human for brief moments was helpful, though. Jack getting killed, not so much. Damn again._ "If the weather gets much worse, we might want to pull off somewhere. I think there's a truck stop out here, there used to be. Haven't been this way in awhile."

"I don't know. We could always find a rest stop."

"Bad night to sleep in the car," Dean said, pulling the car out of a long slide. His heart was beating a little harder. _Great, fun, should have stayed in George. _

"Better sleep in it than be dead in it."

"You got a point there," Dean said, focusing on the road. The snow was increasing, running visibility down to nearly nothing. A few other cars were braving the stormy night, taillights appearing like ghosts and then the headlights drifting away in the heavy snow. The semis were the biggest problem, their taillights looked about the same as everyone else's until you came up on their huge bulk, like a whale drifting on the icy road. _Did I just think that? Road whales? _A thought curled its way through his head. _He'd laugh at that. _The he who would laugh, though, was missing.

_What the hell?_

Suddenly, out of the swirling snow, the giant body of a semi appeared, stretched across the road in front of them. "Shit," he yelled, slamming on the brakes and pulled the wheel to the left. _Which is the worst thing I could have done. _The car spun, sliding towards the semi. _Don't hit the truck, don't hit the truck, don't hit the truck, don't hit the truck. _Dean tried to regain control of the car, he managed a little, getting control of the slide enough to ease the car towards the side of the road. The Impala slowed down and stopped, the back bumper making a soft thump of contact with the truck. _If I have a dent in there…_

"Nice driving, Dean," Sam said with a mixture of annoyance and pride in his voice.

Dean looked over with a grin. "Thanks, Sam." The reply, like the smile, was automatic. Dean slid his hand under the seat and grabbed the .45. He pulled it out and opened the car door, his eyes meeting the other man's. Sam nodded understanding and opened his door, he reached into the backseat and pulled something out of his bag. Dean glanced over when he heard the hammer snick back on the other's gun. _Good job, keep one in the chamber, doesn't pay to be sloppy or unprepared._

Dean eased around the hood of the car. Sam fell in behind him. He was aware of Sam at his back as they approached the truck. He looked back, Sam nodded, he walked to the other side of the truck and came back. "All clear," he mouthed silently. Dean nodded and then moved up the length of the truck. As he approached the cab, he slowed down. Sam did too, without a word or action to indicate that was the plan. Dean stepped up to the door and pulled it open. The driver was still held in place by his seatbelt. _Or at least what's left of him. _Blood covered the seat and pooled in the driver's well. Dean checked the driver for a pulse. _Since he's missing half his neck, I don't think it's possible. _"Still warm," he said silently to Sam. The other man was standing beside the truck, where the cab joined the trailer. Sam was alert, eyes watching the road and Dean.

He met Dean's eyes and nodded. "Still here?" The same silent tone.

"Yeah."

It struck, seemingly out of nowhere, dropping down onto Sam and carrying him to the ground. Its claws carved a bloody track along Sam's chest. Dean jumped off the truck, it turned to face him, rising from Sam and diving at Dean. He dove to one side, the cold road slamming into his body with brutal force. He managed to get his gun up and fire off a shot before it was on him. It disappeared into the snow. He pushed himself up and headed towards Sam. _Where did it go, where did it…? Shit! _It reappeared in front of Sam, reaching its clawed hands towards the exposed throat.

"NO!" Dean ran and grabbed it, pulling it off of Sam. It vanished again into the snow. Dean reached a hand out to help Sam up when it came again, this time slashing at him. He felt flesh tear. Dean was knocked down into the snow and it was on top if him. Hot blood ran down his face. "Hunter," it said with a sigh.

"Dean!" He heard Sam shout. A gunshot exploded in the night and the thing disappeared.

Dean pushed himself up, glancing over at Sam with a smile. "Thanks," he said. Sam smiled back a little wanly. _What's wrong? _Sam was standing, swaying a little, leaning against the side of the truck. His gun was held in a limp hand. As Dean watched, Sam suddenly grabbed at his head, an agonized cry of pain forced out of his lungs, then he dropped to his knees with another groan.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted, running towards the other man. He got there as Sam collapsed onto the snowy road. He turned the other over, running anxious eyes over the bloody wound on his chest.

It came again, hitting him hard enough to knock him away from Sam. Whatever it was laughed. It got closer, Dean fired a shot off. _I think it just enjoys that. _ It laughed again, "My hunters. Good." It took a slashing swing at him and then disappeared, flying into the snow. _Flying, great, it can fly. Add that to the list of annoying things it can do. _

He ran back to Sam. The other was still unconscious. _Not good, not good. _Dean picked him up in a fireman's carry and got him back to the Impala, dropping him into the passenger seat. Dean went to the trunk, one eye watching for the return of the thing, and dug out the first-aid kit. As he dabbed at the slice on Sam's chest, he realized his hands were shaking.

Sam's eyes fluttered opened a little, the look was disoriented and confused. "Dean?" he said in a soft, trusting voice. _Thank god you're okay. _Dean's hands were still shaking and his heart was pounding against his ribcage. Sam's eyes came a little more into focus, a frown appearing on his face. Suspicion sprung up in his eyes. "What happened?" he said in an entirely different tone.

"It attacked, you got hit. But then something else happened. Not sure, but you passed out," Dean said, trying to calm his reaction—_maybe my overreaction—_to what had just happened. He scrubbed the blood off his face with the back of his hand.

"Oh," Sam said, struggling to sit up. "Thanks."

"Yeah," Dean said, giving him a hand up and settling Sam in the seat. He closed the door and walked back around to the driver's side. "Let's put a little distance between us and this truck."

"Sounds good," Sam said vaguely.

"Here." Dean handed Sam's gun to him. "You dropped this."

"Thanks again," Sam said, taking it.

"Sure," Dean said with a little smile. _What's going on? _He ran back over the attack, his reaction when he saw the creature attack Sam, and then his blind panic when the other collapsed. A sudden thought came to his mind. _Did I call him Sammy? What was that about?_

**Sam**

Sam relished being in the car, out of the terrible weather, although the drive turned out to be slightly more hair-raising than he had anticipated, the car occasionally taking a slide on the icy roads. More than once he found himself holding on to his seat for dear life, certain that they were going to spin off the road. The guy – Dean – turned out to be a very skilled driver, however; getting the car back on its course every time.

He had to admit, though, that it was more than just the being warm and dry in the car that gave him the pleasant feeling. The car itself gave him a sense of safety, reminding him of long years on the road with his father. Even though he couldn't claim that he had ever been on the best of terms with his father, the fact that the man had been there to watch his back on hunts had given him a feeling of security that he often missed now that he hunted alone. Also, over the course of those years, the car had come to be the only constant in his life, sort of the only home he'd ever known. He had been sorry to learn that his father had changed it for the truck when he was away at college.

Sam mentally shook himself when he realized he'd started humming along with Zeppelin. _It doesn't do to become too relaxed, I still don't know this guy. Although it's quite pleasant to be here and talk with him about cars and music – that is, if my ears don't fall off – I can't let my guard down._

"You have family in Spokane?" Dean suddenly asked.

_Why's he asking that? He might just be making conversation – but then again, he might have another motive. With all that's happened lately, I'm not sure I should trust anyone. _Sam couldn't stop a frown forming on his face.

"No, I'm actually going a little further," he said. _Not going to be too specific. Rule number one: never reveal more information than you need to._

"Oh, really? Me too." Sam caught the tinge of suspicion in the guy's voice. _Oh yeah? Coincidence, right? _His frown deepened. _Or is he just saying that because… Shit, I hope he's not… _

"Where're you headed then?" Dean asked before Sam could continue his musings. _Might as well answer him, he'd probably find out anyway._

He shrugged. "Montana." _And I bet you are too, whether that was your destination five seconds ago or not. Are you following me? Or am I just being too suspicious? _

"Oh."

_Oh? Is that your only answer? _"Yeah, you?" Sam couldn't keep the growing suspicion out of his voice.

"Montana."

_Now why doesn't that surprise me?_ "Oh?" he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"Yeah."

_Wow, you're really communicative now, Dean. _Sam turned his head and stared out the window at the snow swirling around the car, isolating them from the world. For a few moments, the sight of the snowflakes speeding towards them, lit up by the car's headlights, hypnotised him, then he turned his thoughts back to his situation. _Who the hell is this guy? Why is he going to Montana too? And why have I seen him all the way up the coast and then east? Is he a hunter? Is he hunting the creature too? Or is he… is he hunting me? _He felt himself tense at the thought and hoped Dean didn't notice. _What do I do? I'm stuck with him now, at least till Spokane… Maybe I'm overreacting, maybe he's just an ordinary guy road tripping. Yeah, right. It's just a coincidence that you've encountered him this many times. Forget it._

He suddenly flinched as a flash of a vision _memory?_ hit him. He heard a male voice in his mind, then his own voice answering. _"Random coincidence, it happens." "Yeah, it happens, but not to us." What the hell?_ He breathed slowly, trying to act as if nothing had happened, praying that he wouldn't be hit by a full-blown vision while in the car. Even if the guy was just an ordinary guy, that would at best freak him out enough to wreck the car on the icy road.

Sam started slowly relaxing when he realized the vision was staying away. _Guess I got lucky this time. This is starting to annoy me, I thought… _He sighed silently. _Ok, back to the problem at hand. What do I do? If he's after me… Maybe I should stay with him, keep an eye on him? That way at least he'll have a smaller chance to get the drop on me… How do I play this? _He took a deep breath.

"Weird coincidence." He laughed, hoping he didn't betray his tension. "Depending on where you're going maybe I could catch a lift? I'd be willing to share gas."

"Yeah, maybe." Dean laughed. "If you can take the music." _Guess I didn't manage to hide my tension that well. But good job trying to ease the tension, Dean. _"That could be a problem," he said, forcing a smile to his face. "I'll let you know when my ears start bleeding." _I can do light-hearted too. I'm pretty good at it, actually. Though not as good as you. _He frowned again. _Where on earth did that thought come from?_

They started talking about neutral things like where they should spend the night, neither of them being keen on continuing driving, but they didn't much care for the thought of sleeping in the car either. Suddenly Sam noticed a huge dark shape in front of them, then everything became a blur as Dean slammed the brakes and the car sped into a spin, sliding on the ice-covered road, finally coming to rest at the side of the road, only the back bumper hitting what turned out to be a huge semi.

_Dammit, that was close… Wouldn't want to have hit that one at full speed, but why the hell did you slam the brakes, Dean? You should know better than that! Good driving, though, thank you for not getting us killed. _"Nice driving, Dean," he said.

Dean flashed him a grin, replying with an easy "Thanks, Sam." Sam found himself smiling back. Then they both turned their attention to the truck, looking at it for a few seconds before starting to move. Dean grabbed a gun from beneath his seat, then glanced at Sam before opening his door. _I'll have your back, no worries._ He nodded, then quickly moved out the door, opened the door to the backseat and grabbed his own gun from out of his bag, pulling back the slide a little to check the round in the chamber.

He turned and focused all his attention on the truck and Dean, moving silently behind him, keeping an eye out for attackers while they moved towards the truck. When they drew near, Dean looked back at him and Sam without thinking moved around the front of the truck to check for possible dangers lurking behind it. There was nothing, just the untouched thickening layer of snow falling on the road. He moved slowly back to Dean, his cautious movements making no sounds in the snow. _Lucky it isn't freezing so the snow would give us away. Of course, if something's here, it'd probably know we're here too anyway. _

When Dean was in sight, Sam silently mouthed "All clear", knowing that Dean would without doubt understand the gesture. _This guy is good, definitely had training. He might be a hunter after all. _He forced further thoughts from his mind to concentrate on the job at hand, figuring out what had happened to the truck. Dean was moving towards the cab, Sam following close behind him. As one, they slowed down the last few steps up to the cab, their movements coordinated.

Dean moved closer and opened the door to the cab, moving up to check the driver's pulse, but from the amount of blood that Sam could see, he didn't think there was much chance to find one. Dean turned his head to look at him. "Still warm," he mouthed. _So it might still be here. Whatever it is. I thought I sensed something, but there's nothing to see. _He kept up his vigilance, looking for threats to himself, for threats to Dean. He caught Dean's eyes. "Still here?" he asked soundlessly and got an affirmative "yeah" in return. He turned his head to look down the length of the truck again, wondering where the thing had gotten to in the snow. _It can't just disappear without a trace. Well, unless it's a spirit, but then we'd probably have smelled ozone… Wonder if I should get the EMF meter, but that might cause trouble if he isn't a hunter after all. _

He heard a tiny noise and had just started to turn his eyes upwards when the thing was upon him, its weight smashing him to the ground, claws biting into the skin on his chest. Reality and vision blurred as images flashed painfully in his mind while he desperately tried to fight off the thing before its claws reached his throat. One moment it was a dark shape, the next a pretty young blonde with a knife in her hand and a satisfied grin on her face.

Suddenly its weight disappeared off him and he heard a gunshot. _Dean! _He struggled to get up but a white-hot pain in his head stopped him and he fell back upon the freezing ground, his eyes closing with the pain. Seconds later, he felt its weight on him again, and, forcing his eyes open, he saw glittering eyes behind evil claws that were reaching for him, reaching to tear out his throat, to leave him bleeding in the snow.

Conscious thought was gone, the pain in his mind holding him paralysed, unable to defend himself. _Dean! Dean, please help me! _ His unspoken plea was answered when he heard Dean's scream of "NO!" and then footsteps approaching as Dean ran towards them and pulled the thing off him. He blinked, his vision clearing, the pain receding, and reached out to take the hand that Dean held out to help him up, when suddenly the thing reappeared behind Dean, slashing at him. Sam saw red spots of blood hitting the white snow beside him as Dean was brought to the ground. "Hunter," he heard the thing breathe, pleasure plain in its voice. _No, no! You're not getting him!_ "Dean!" he shouted, to let the man know he was coming, to chase the thing away. He managed to scramble to his feet, to stagger over to where his gun had fallen, and in one fluid movement he picked it up, pointed it at the dark shape sitting on top of Dean, and fired.

He rose, feeling reassured when he saw Dean move, starting to rise. Then flashes of images once again started to assault him. He tried to force them away, to keep the pain that accompanied them at bay, but to no avail. _Oh no, please, not now, not here… _He momentarily won the fight and glanced at Dean to check that he was ok, answering his thanks with a weak smile, his body trembling with the effort to stay in the present. He didn't even notice that he was leaning against the truck for support, nor that his gun was slowly slipping from his fingers. All his attention was focused on keeping away the darkness and pain that threatened to engulf him and drown him in the incoherent images that had been haunting him for days. Then the vision hit him full force, driving a cry of pain from him, bringing him to his knees.

_A blonde woman throwing him across the room, jumping onto his chest when he hit the ground, hitting him across his face with a power far beyond what should have been physically possible. He lay there, d__azed, while she cut his chest then cut her hand, mixing her blood with his. _

_The sound of gunshots, then a weight disappearing from his chest. A man approaching, his face still blurred, but he comes with a sense of peacefulness, of safety. A hand held out to him, then snatched away when he reaches for him. The sense of safety is replaced with fear, grief and an emotional agony at the thought of what he might become. _

Flashes of light assault his eyes, the vision changing.

_A man – no, THE man, DEAN! Holding a gun, pointing it at a guy sitting in a chair, tied up, begging for his life. Other people there, a sense of panic. Then Dean's voice saying "I've got no choice!" __The sound of three gunshots. _

Then he disappeared into the painless darkness of oblivion.

When he came to, the first thing he noticed was the somehow comforting feeling of leather beneath him. Then he sensed the presence of someone there, someone who was cleaning out his wound. He struggled to open his eyes, even though part of him just wanted to stay in the safety of that moment. He blinked a few times. "Dean?" he asked in a soft voice when he recognised the man. _Are you okay? You look a little freaked. What happened? _Dean smiled at him. Then the memory of the vision came back to Sam, the memory of Dean shooting a man in cold blood mixing with a muddled sense of knowing the man might be like him. He frowned, withdrawing slightly from Dean.

"What happened?" _How did I get here? What… I remember that thing, but that was over by the truck. I don't remember getting over here. Did I pass out? Great, these visions are so much fun, so convenient. Not. I can't tell him about them, maybe he'd… But he might do that anyway. What was that vision? What did she do to me? Am I… Is something wrong with me? Something that might make him want to kill me?_

He suddenly realized that Dean was talking to him, explaining what had happened. "It attacked, you got hit. But then something else happened. Not sure, but you passed out," he said. Sam could hear the question in his voice, but chose to ignore it. Dean still looked freaked, and Sam wasn't sure how he'd react if he started to suspect that there might be something supernatural going on with Sam.

"Okay… Thanks," he managed to say, moving to get more comfortable in the seat, trying not to flinch away when Dean reached out to help him. When he was settled, Dean walked around the car and got into the driver's seat. "Let's put a little distance between us and this truck." He said it lightly, but Sam could hear the tension beneath it.

"Sounds good," Sam replied. _I wonder if he realizes what the thing was? Or that it wasn't human. He seems to. He's freaked, but not in the I-think-I'm-going-crazy freaked way that people who don't know what's out there have. Actually, I don't really understand what he's so freaked about, it can't have been the first time he's been up against something like this. I hope it's not my behaviour that's freaking him out. _

Dean held out his gun to him, and Sam realized that he hadn't even heard what Dean was saying. "Thanks again," he said, hoping that was the right answer. Dean's answering smile didn't reassure him.

_I have to be careful, I have to act normal. I can't let him suspect anything. Maybe hitching a ride with him was a bad idea after all. He might be a hunter… Wait… He is… That thing said it… He is a hunter. If… If I'm like the man in my vision… Hell, he might have been one of the special kids for all I know… Then I can't stay with him. He'd kill me if he found out. _

He frowned, turned his head slightly away from Dean to hide his expression from him. _He seems a competent hunter, hell, he might have saved my life today. He'll be quite capable of taking on that thing on his own. I'd better just leave before I get another vision and need to explain it to him. All I need is another Gordon on my case. With luck, I can get a ride with someone else from the next town, maybe go south before heading east again. And with luck, I'll never see this guy again. _

**Hilda**

The snow was swirling around the buildings, the wind whipping the fallen flakes into a frenzy of motion. She paused, letting the wind caress her, letting the snow rest on her face and hair. The night was cold, refreshingly so, the wind driving lesser beings into the flimsy protection of the buildings marring the landscape. She sighed, they didn't understand, didn't honor the ways anymore, so she had to seek those out who could play.

She had no name, although she had gone by many over the millennia, more than she could count, sometimes the names muttered with respect, sometimes with loathing, but all called her something. And now she had no name, no one to remember her days, her sacrifices, so she took them as she pleased.

The brothers were proving worthy of her attention. She had been hunting their kind for many years, the warriors of this new age. Each unique, each taste adding power. But the brothers, she sighed, it was already working out better than she had hoped. The spell had broken a tiny bit during her attack, but that had its advantages too.

As she walked towards the bar, she felt something behind her. Turning, she saw a man approaching, his black eyes like holes in his face. She smiled at him and he stopped, looking at her curiously. "Go, demon, they are mine," she hissed.

He looked at her. "Out of my way." He put his hand on her to move her aside. She growled at him and let him see her. He froze, his black eyes staring at her. "You're…"

"Yes, and they are mine." She sighed, hearing the pleasure and anticipation in her own voice. "Mine, so you and yours stay away, hear me?"

"Yes," he said, backing away from her. He walked away, watching her the whole time, until he was swallowed by the snow-filled night.

She laughed, her voice shrill in the cold night. Walking on, she pushed the door open of the bar, the room stank of burned meat and spilled beer. _Humans. _She saw the person she was looking for sitting in the corner of the room. Running a hand through hair nearly as light as the snow outside, she walked over to him with a smile. He looked up and smiled.

"Can I join you?" she purred

He glanced down at his watch, then back up at her. "Sure, can I get you something?" He waved the waitress down, the woman took the order and left them alone. "My name's Tony," the man said with a grin.

_Yes, hunter, I know. _"I'm Hilda," she said, laying a hand on his arm, admiring the way her nails glittered in the low light. He looked down at her hand and used the look to cover a glance at his watch. "Are you waiting for someone?" she pouted.

"A couple of friends of mine are meeting me here. They're coming out from the coast."

"Oh, really?" She leaned forward, urging confidences.

"Yeah, Sam and Dean, known them for years, well I know Dean better." He laughed. "I remember once he and I…" Tony stopped, looking at her. "But you don't want to hear about that."

"You can tell me," she said, smiling. "But later, you can tell me later." She leaned forward and kissed him. He stiffened for a minute then leaned into the kiss. She sighed. _Perfect_. As she let the kiss end, she placed her hand on the side of his head and looked into his eyes, her hand slowly tightening on his skull. His eyes were afraid for a minute, then blanked out as she slid into his mind. "Let me tell you about who you are meeting."

"Yes?" he said, his eyes blank as he struggled against her invasion.

"You only know the one, he has no brother."

"No," he said, his voice full of pain as he tried to pull away from her.

"Yes," she said, her nails digging into his scalp. "Yes. The other, he is one of the enemy, he opened the gates that flooded the world with the filth of demons."

"No," he said, trying to pull away.

She put her other hand on his head and dug her nails in, feeling blood welling under her fingers. Excitement filled her, warming her. _No, not yet, I have to wait until the game is played. _She pulled back a little and drove herself completely into his mind, removing the memories of Sam Winchester and layering in new ones of her choosing. When she was finished, she brushed her mouth over his bloodless lips. "After you see your friend, come to me in my room, I'll make it worth your while."

"Yes," he said, smiling at her as she stood.

"Soon," she said, running her hand down his cheek. She sighed as she walked away. _A nice taste before the final feast. _She licked his blood off her fingertips. _Very nice. _

**Sam**

Sam kept quiet for the next few miles, content to be left alone with his thoughts although the music was grating on the headache his vision had left behind. He pondered how he was going to explain to Dean why he wouldn't be driving with him further after all. The 'change of plans' excuse wasn't going to work, since that would make Dean wonder what exactly had made him change his mind. _No, I have to come up with something else. I can't just slip away, either, that would make him even more suspicious than he already is. Of course, I could always just knock him out and take off on my own, but somehow I'm not sure I'd get that far in this weather, and if I'm still stuck in the town when he wakes up… Nope, not going to work. _He was still thinking when he noticed Dean shifting slightly in his seat before clearing his throat.

"So…" he said, hesitation in his voice. "That thing… Did you get a look at it?"

Sam shook his head. "Not really, no. The snow made everything blurry, and it all went so fast." _Not to mention that the vision intruded as well, but I'm not going to tell you that._ "It's mostly flashes – long claws, eyes glittering with evil intent. You?" _He called it an 'it'. Guess he really is a hunter. _

Dean shook his head too. "Nope. The claws, the eyes, and it was the size of a human. And wearing some kind of cloth, I think. And the freaking thing can fly."

"Fly?" Sam asked incredulously. _What the hell kind of thing can fly???_ "Well, at least that explains why it could get the drop on me like that."

Dean looked at him sideways before answering. "Yeah, I guess. Any suggestion as to what it might be?"

Sam thought for a moment before answering. "Not right now, no." He stopped himself before offering to do more research when they reached Spokane, remembering just in time that he was going to leave Dean there and take off on his own in another direction. "But at least we know it's corporeal, it's humanoid, it's evil and it's damned fast and has claws that are sharp as razor blades." He paused. "Hey, er… Thank you for saving my life back there."

Dean glanced at him. "Don't mention it, and right back atcha." He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music for a few moments, then frowned. "'Corporeal', eh?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. "What's up with that?"

"Nothin'," Dean said, a slight smile playing on his lips. Then he frowned, a look of confusion flashing across his face.

Sam huffed, then turned his head to look out the window, returning to his earlier thoughts. Dean wasn't going to let the conversation end, though.

"So, whatever we're dealing with, it's some kind of creature, and I guess it's pretty smart. And, of course, pretty blood-thirsty, judging from what had happened to that guy back there. And although the bullets chased it away, it didn't seem to do it too much harm. There was no blood or anything on the snow afterwards" Dean looked at Sam. "What kind of bullets did you use?"

"Silver. You?"

"Silver."

Dean smiled again. "Good call, works on most things. You seem to be pretty well trained?" He left the sentence somewhere between a statement and a question, more, it seemed to Sam, to make conversation than to try getting information from him. _Of course, that might be exactly what he wants me to feel, making it easier to get that information…_

"Yeah. My Dad taught me some things growing up that are quite handy now." He kept his face impassive, hiding the stab of pain that still went through him every time he thought about his father.

Dean shot him a glance. "Me too," he said, his voice quiet. "So, how long have you been hunting?"

Sam shifted in his seat. _How much do I tell him? _"Practically all my life. Got out of it for a while, but then…" He paused. "Something happened and I took it up again."

Dean nodded. "It shows. Your experience, I mean."

"Yours does, too," Sam said, keeping his voice neutral, leaving it up to Dean to elaborate or not.

"Yeah. Got started young, too. Hunted with my father all my life. Never looked back, just embraced the life." Somehow Sam got the impression that it was a line Dean had said a lot of times but now didn't really believe it anymore. He didn't question him further, though, figuring that whatever was bugging the other wasn't really his business. _No reason to get involved any more than necessary, since I'm going to leave him when we get to Spokane anyway. Still need to find an excuse for that. _

They drove in silence for a while, then Dean once again spoke up. "Hey, I'm meeting another hunter in Spokane. He was the one who gave me the lead to go here, had heard I'd been tracking the thing and asked if I wanted to team up with him to take care of it here in what seems to be its home or lair or whatever you want to call it…" He paused. "We made a hell of a team back there. You want to join us? I'm sure we could take it out on our own, but an extra pair of capable guns are always helpful."

Sam frowned. "Who's the hunter you're meeting up with?" _Shit. What if he's one of the crazies who're hunting me? Well, at least this gives me an excuse to leave, I'll just say that since they can take care of it, my guns could do more good somewhere else. Always plenty of evil to hunt. Too freaking much, to be frank. Sometimes it's like an ocean of evil out there, just waiting for the right moment to rise up and swallow us up. _

"Guy named Tony. Good hunter, experienced, ex-marine." Sam could hear the respect in Dean's voice.

"Tony Kramer? The guy who killed that demon in Chicago?"

"Yep, that one. You know him?"

"Know of him's more like it. I've heard a lot of good about him. He's done some pretty good jobs. Specializes in demons." _Which means that with all the demons around lately, he'll have had plenty of opportunity to hear about me and the plans the demons have for me. Great. _

"He is badass, I'll tell you. I once saw him trap and exorcise a demon down in Kentucky. Knows about 10 exorcisms by heart. 'One for every opportunity', he always said." Dean smiled at the thought. Sam merely grunted in reply, which caused Dean to frown at him.

Sam had just taken a breath to explain why he wouldn't want to join them, when a flash of light almost blinded his eyes. He managed not to flinch visibly, merely clenching his teeth, then blinking a few times. The flash was followed by a growing pain and he started to fear that a full-blown vision was on its way. He shifted slightly in his seat to hide his instinctive wince when another flash of light blinded him. "Do you mind turning down the music a little? Ozzy's starting to grate a little on my ears," he asked, trying to keep his voice normal, looking at Dean sideways to gauge if he'd seen his wince.

Dean looked at him in surprise, then turned the volume down slightly without saying a word.

Sam turned to look out the window on his right. _Please, not a vision now. He was freaked enough back there, no reason to freak him out even more. Especially not when we're meeting Tony… I'd better get off before then, even though I can't be sure that he's heard of me, I can't take the chance. _He shifted again as another flash hit his eyes. This time he saw a short image, an angry pair of eyes looking into his, the he felt himself scream as smoke wafted in front of him. _What the hell was that? _He gritted his teeth, trying to force the images to stay hidden, stay away. He had no idea how long he was sitting there like that, shifting every once in a while in a hopeless attempt to soothe the increasing pain in his head. _I'll take a hangover any day over this. It almost feel as if the more I focus on keeping the vision away, the more my head hurts. Freaking great. _

He asked Dean once more to turn down the music, the words coming out harsher than he intended because of the pain in his head. He suddenly realized he had taken to shooting sideways glances at Dean to check if he had noticed his behaviour. He thought he sensed him looking at him once or twice, but every time Dean's eyes were back to the windshield when Sam turned his head slightly to look at him.

"Almost there, I think the exit is the next one," Dean suddenly said. "I'm meeting Tony in a place there, and there's a small hotel as well, so I think we'll just stay there tonight."

Sam blinked a few times, fighting back another painful flash. "Yeah, right," he managed to say, not trusting his ability to say anything more without crying out with pain. He turned away from Dean to look out the window, catching sight of his own reflection as they passed a house with a light out front. _Shit, I look like hell. No wonder he keeps looking weirdly at me. _

The car suddenly hit a patch of ice and lurched slightly, causing Sam to rock in his seat, his control of his mind slipping a little, bringing another image to his eyes. _A gun pointing at his chest, a blonde girl tied to a post, a knife in his hand._ He forced the image away again, confusion setting his thoughts racing. _What the hell is going on? What are those images? Are they memories? They don't feel like visions. And I seem to be able to keep them away somehow, if I focus. What's with that? I was never able to do that before. I hope it isn't… But no, the demon's dead. _

He suddenly realized that Dean had pulled off the exit and into the town. He noticed Dean glancing at him when he pulled into the parking lot at Harry's Bar and Grill (With Roadside Mystery Zoo), then saw a smile form on his face. _Guess he came here as a kid, too. I remember that calf, I couldn't believe it was real. _

"We made it," Dean said, chuckling as if at a happy memory. "Want to come on for dinner? My treat? We'll take off early tomorrow if the weather is better." _No, sorry. I've got to get out of here before you meet that guy. I'm better off on my own. It's the only way I can be safe. _He looked back at Dean's smiling face, struggling to find something to say, when Dean's attention suddenly shifted away from him to someone outside the car. "Hey, that looks like Tony!" he said, then honked and waved at a man standing outside the bar. "You'll like him." _Damn it! What have I done to deserve this, universe? Can't I have just a little luck once in a while? I better get out of here fast. _

Sam looked out the window, frowning as he recognized the man. _Gets better and better, he'll definitely recognise me. This sucks. Big time. Well, if things turn bad, I'll just have to kill them both and take off. If I'm lucky, that thing will get the blame if it comes to that. _

"I'm going to take off, I think. I'll find another way to where I'm going, thanks." He grabbed his bags, turning to open the door.

"Okay," Dean answered, Sam thought he heard a tinge of disappointment in his voice. _Huh, that's weird. Unless… Unless he's that good an actor, trying to make me stay…_

"Thanks again," Dean added.

"Don't mention it," Sam said, stepping out. _Now can I please go before that guy comes over here? Damn it, too late! _He saw Tony approaching, hoping against hope that he would be lucky, that Tony wouldn't have heard the rumours about him. When he rose to his full height and looked at him, he knew Lady Luck had once again turned her back on him. Tony paled, his eyes growing wide with fear as he recognised Sam. He took a step backwards, his hand moving to the small of his back. Sam started to pull his own gun from his bag, but before he could get it out, he saw Tony's gun point at his stomach. He was bracing himself for the impact when Dean suddenly appeared as if out of nowhere, knocking Tony's gun away. "What the hell?" Dean yelled.

Sam took a deep breath, shoving his gun back out of sight. _Thank god, I won't have to shoot them out here in the open. I'm not sure how Dean would've reacted if I'd shot Tony. Not pleasantly, I don't think. He seems the protective type. _He frowned, remembering the care Dean had shown him after the attack. _I better get out of here, fast, before Tony starts talking. _"Good thing I'm leaving," he said, already moving away. "See ya," he said to Dean over his shoulder as he walked away with long strides, a strange emotion coursing through him when he turned the corner and the other two men were out of sight.

He frowned when he realized that what he felt wasn't relief that he had escaped, but rather regret that he had left Dean's company.

**Dean**

Dean was staring, a little moodily, out the windshield. Driving conditions had not improved and he was beginning to think pulling off and spending the night on an exit ramp, like so many of the semis, was a good idea. He had a feeling that Sam wanted to go on, he was starting to fidget a bit in the seat and had complained, twice now, about the music. _And I switched from Zeppelin to Sabbath. Who doesn't like Black Sabbath? I mean what's next? Not liking AC/DC or Metallica? I think there is something wrong with him. _Dean sighed. _He's a hunter, but one I've never met, not that I know all of them, but…Well, he did save my life. It felt a little weird, though, he anticipated my movements. He seems freaked now though, he keeps looking over at me. There it is again. Hello, still here._

"Almost there, I think the exit is the next one," Dean said as they passed an exit sign. "I'm meeting Tony in a place there, and there's a small hotel as well, so I think we'll just stay there tonight."

"Yeah, right," Sam said looking out the window.

_He's gotten fun. It'll be nice to see Tony, haven't had a chance to catch up in a few years. I wonder how many hunters are after this thing? Once people start dying… _Dean pulled the car back under control as he hit a patch of ice. _Okay, time to focus on the road. _By the time he pulled off at his exit he was exhausted, an ache was creeping up the back of his neck into his head, and his head was pounding along with the music. _At least it's in time. _

He spotted the turn to the bar and motel and with a glance over at his now silent passenger pulled into Harry's Bar and Grill (With Roadside Mystery Zoo). Dean smiled at the sign, over the years the zoo had slowly gone from living to stuffed, but the animals were many of those he remembered as a kid. _I always liked the two-headed calf though, it was my favorite, the thing still freaks me out. _He smiled as he remembered the first time he'd seen it, two heads, sad eyes. _The taxidermist did a great job, it looked so real. _ He was still smiling as another memory crept in, a voice full of wonder and awe, a child's voice. _"Is it real, Dean?"_

Dean shook the memory off. _What the hell was that? _"We made it," he said with a little chuckle. "Want to come on for dinner? My treat? We'll take off early tomorrow if the weather is better." Dean smiled at him, something in Sam's eyes told him there was more going on than he thought. "Hey, that looks like Tony!" Dean honked and waved at his friend. "You'll like him."

Sam looked out the window, a frown playing on his face. "I'm going to take off, I think. I'll find another way to where I'm going, thanks." He reached into the back seat and hauled his bags over.

"Okay," Dean said, feeling oddly disappointed that Sam was leaving. _We made a good team. It's lonely out here and… _"Thanks again."

"Don't mention it," Sam said, getting out of the car.

Tony was approaching the car as Sam got out. Dean was pulling the keys out of the ignition when he saw Tony step back, away from Sam, like he had been hit. His friend's face was suddenly paper-white. Dean got out of the car just as Tony pulled a gun. Dean ran and slapped the gun down before Tony could shoot Sam. "What the hell?"

"Good thing I'm leaving," Sam said with a frown. "See ya."

"Dean, do you know who that was?" Tony said, his eyes wild as he struggled to get his gun hand up again.

"Tony? You've been drinking, let's go in and get you something to eat." Dean pulled his friend into the bar. _Still smells the same too. _He smiled at the bartender and walked back towards a booth in the back. A blond with nearly white hair smiled at him as he walked past. _Maybe later. _He pushed Tony down into the booth. "Want to tell me what that was about?"

Tony still looked a little crazed. "Were you traveling with that guy?"

"Yeah. He saved my life a few miles back."

"He did? I find that hard to believe, Dean."

"Tony? What?"

"He's one of them."

"One of who?"

"The bad guys. He was one of the ones who opened the gate. If he's not a demon, he's in league with them. I even heard…"

"What?" Dean was suddenly wary, Tony had been his friend for a long time, but what he was saying was somehow hard to believe.

"I heard he had something to do with John's death." Tony looked upset as he said it.

"What? No." Dean shook his head. _He saved my life, if he had something to do with dad's death, why would he save my life? _

"Sorry, man," Tony said quietly.

"Yeah." Dean looked away. _No, it can't be. I need to find him and ask…of course if he's a demon…_ "So, anything on what's killing the hunters?"

"Dean…"

"Don't want to talk about it," Dean snapped.

"He could be trouble—is he traveling in the same direction as we are?"

"Yeah." _Yeah, he is. And he was pretty curious about you, now that I think about it. He could have been following me, but why? _"Yeah, he was."

"Maybe there's a reason, Dean. Maybe he's working with it, whatever it is. Demon maybe?"

"If it's a demon, it can fly," Dean said. He told Tony about the encounter on the road. "He saved my life, Tony."

"To get your trust?" Tony looked at him.

_Is that what it was? I don't know. _"Yeah." Dean shrugged. "Could be. What's wrong?" Tony was rubbing his head, Dean noticed what looked like a bruise with a tiny scab under Tony's ear.

"I have a killer headache, teach me to mix B52s with beer."

"You deserve a headache."

"Yeah, I'm going to hit the sack, I'll meet you for breakfast at six?" Tony said, standing.

"Sure." _Six in the morning. I'm losing my mind. And I was planning to get to know the blond better. _Tony smiled at the waitress as he walked away, Dean watched his slow progress across the bar. The blond stopped Tony and said something to him with a smile. He nodded and she walked out with him. _Six will be easier than I thought. _Dean ordered dinner and got up to play some darts.

By the time he'd eaten and won enough at darts to buy gas, food and lodging the rest of the way to Montana, he was exhausted. The long drive in rough conditions, as well as the emotions that had plagued him final caught up. He grabbed his jacket and headed out of the bar towards the hotel. After checking in, he wandered back to the car. _I'll just leave it here, easier that way. Just have to scrape it off once. _He grabbed his bags and turned back towards his room. Something at the edge of the building caught his eyes, even through the blowing snow.

A crimson stain marred the fresh snow.

Dean walked over towards the stain, halfway there he stopped for an instant and then ran, dropping to his knees beside the body of Tony Kramer. He felt for a pulse, pulling his hand away from the rapidly cooling flesh.

_My god, he's been butchered. Who could have…_He caught sight of a footprint in the snow, a large footprint. As Dean ran his eyes over Tony's body, he noticed the knife left sticking in what remained of his friend's chest. He recognized the knife, he'd seen it in the guy's bag.

_Sam._

_He…Tony's not just dead, but he's, god, he's been butchered. Sam is a monster, Tony was right. Fine, two hunts now, the thing that attacked me, but first…?_

_Sam, you evil son of a bitch. _

_You're a dead man._

_**To Be Continued**_


	3. Night Angels Serve

_A/N: Abni—Sorry for being so late with this chapter, the fault is all mine. My muse is fickle at the moment, and work keeps interrupting my attempts to write. A huge thank you to Muffy who finally told me to 'sit-stay-write' – and made things start to happen. _

_A/N__: Muffy—We've backed this up a little, so we know what happened with Sam just before Tony's murder and what's going on with Hilda. And please remember—Dean doesn't remember who Sam is…_

**Cold Wind to Valhalla**

**Chapter Three**

_Night angels serve  
with ice-bound majesty—Jethro Tull_

**Sam**

Sam strode away from the two hunters, hurrying to get away before Tony could start talking to Dean. _Who knows what he might say? I can't even keep track of half the things people – and demons – are saying about me anymore. I hope he doesn't turn Dean against me._ For some reason the thought that Dean might think he was evil caused a fear in him that had nothing to do with fearing for his life. _What's going on? Why do I feel such a connection with that guy? I don't even know him, why should I care what he thinks about me?_

He was pulled from his thoughts when a stab of pain pierced through his brain. _No, no, please, no, please stay away. Please wait until I'm farther away. If they come after me… I get the feeling Dean doesn't care much for demons, and if he thought… I need to get away… _Another stab of pain blinded him, making him stumble, hitting the wall of the building sharply with his shoulder. He tried to focus his energy on suppressing the images that he knew were trying to force their way into his brain.

His mind cleared again, the control slipping back into place. He released the breath he had been holding and once more set out for the other end of town where he hoped he could catch a ride. _I better get away from here pretty fast. _He frowned again as a wave of regret rolled over him. Somehow, the feeling seemed strangely familiar. _Why does it feel this way? I should be happy to be leaving, so why do I feel like I want to stay? _Suddenly an image broke through his defences, a memory of a day years before.

_He was fighting with his father again, but this time he was determined not to back down. He picked up his already-packed bag, slinging it over his shoulder, then picked up his acceptance letter from where his father had thrown it on the floor, holding it close to his chest like a shield. "I'm leaving, and you can't stop me. This is the life I want." Then he turned and walked out the door, his steps heavy and growing heavier when he heard his father's final words. "If you walk away now, you don't come back, you hear me? You go, you stay gone!" The tears rolled down his face as he clenched his teeth and kept walking, ignoring the hole growing inside him. _

He came back to reality with a gasp, finding himself slumped against a trashcan, the icy metal burning his hands, sticking to his skin as he tore them away. He breathed heavily a few times, trying to calm the emotions welling up in him, the hurt and regret of leaving, the pain of turning his back on his father and the life he wanted him to live. _And here I am, back in it with no hope of ever leaving it. I once thought I could, but now… After what I've seen, after what the demon showed me… There's no going back for me, ever. I'm stuck with this life. Alone. _

He started when a car came tearing down the road a bit too fast, sliding a little on the icy road. He tried to look past the blinding headlights coming towards him, realising as he did so that he was hoping it was the black Impala. He felt a renewed pang of regret when he realised it wasn't, and he couldn't help following the car with his eyes until the taillights disappeared in the distance.

_A lonely road in the middle of nowhere. A car door slamming, an engine rumbling, the lights disappearing in the distance as he stood there, once again having exiled himself from the company of others. Then he turned and started walking the lonely road to a destination only he knew. _

He blinked, then shook his head, trying to chase the images and the pain away. _What the hell is going on? Why am I getting these images? They feel like memories, I know some of them are, but are they all? _He felt fear welling up in him, a fear like the one he had felt when he had first realised he had special 'powers' and might be more closely connected to the world of the supernatural than he would like to be. _I guess I always knew that would lead to this life in solitude. I just wish they'd stop with what I've already got, I don't need anything more, I thought they would have stopped when the demon died… Get a grip, focus, stop thinking about this, there's nothing you can do about it anyway. Accept it and move on. _

He continued his walk down the road, his head bowed against the bone-chilling wind that kept blowing tiny snowflakes like needles into his face. He stopped abruptly, thinking he heard a distant scream, but then dismissed it as being the howling wind. _Hell of a night to be out in. I'd rather just find somewhere to hole up for the night, but I'd better get out of town before they start talking. I have a better chance of disappearing that way, and something tell me that I'll have to do that if Tony tells Dean what people are saying about me. Although I don't think the chances of getting a ride are that big, only crazy people would go out in this weather, let alone drive… Maybe I should just squat somewhere, an abandoned warehouse or just a shed would be preferable to this. Wouldn't be the first time, either… These last months, since dad… _

He pulled his thoughts away from the memory of the bleakness and loneliness of the last months, instead trying to focus on his next course of action – which at the moment only consisted of getting out of town and away from Dean and Tony. He shuddered violently as he passed a gap between two houses where the wind blew straight at him, swirling snow and icy air into every single aperture in his clothes. He felt chilled to the bone and longed for the earlier warmth of the car. He could feel his battered muscles starting to stiffen up, too; his movements unable to compete with the force of the weather.

_If I had known I was going to be out in a freaking blizzard, I would have bought the appropriate equipment. Maybe even a dog sled. _He grinned, imagining Dean's face if he suggested exchanging the Impala for one. _What the… Where did that thought come from? What the hell is happening to me, why do I keep thinking about that guy? Somehow I feel that I know him, but how can I? I'd never even seen him until yesterday, yet… _

This time there was no warning, no stab of pain, no flash of light to let him know what was coming, just a myriad of images pounding their way into – or rather out of – his mind with a force that brought him instantly to his knees, forcing a groan from his lips.

_A woman burning on the ceiling, his name the last word on her lips as the flames consumed her. Then a pair of hands around him, pulling him from the flames, from the woman he loved, from his own death. _

_He's fighting with a man – Dean? – who's threatening to kill him. The man rushes him, the movement throws them both onto a coffee table that shatters beneath them. Sam is winded, unable to move, and the man take the opportunity and starts strangling him, pleasure in his eyes as he sees Sam's panicked movements grow weaker. Then someone else – Dean?? – barges in and shoots the man. Soon after a gentle pair of female hands support his head, but what's making him feel safe is the presence of Dean in the room. _

_He's being strangled again – man, how he hates that feeling – this time by a lamp cord, a freaking possessed __**lamp cord**__, that is slowly tightening around his neck. His last thought – or so he thinks – is that he has failed. Then Dean arrives, he's barely conscious but he knows his brother's there, and soon after everything is alright, he's able to breathe again and his brother is there, he is safe. _

"He's my brother!" Sam's conscious mind screamed to him, but he was unable to fight the memories that kept pounding him, rushing into his consciousness now that the door had been opened and he was starting to remember. They kept coming, faster and faster, as if he was about to remember his entire life in a matter of minutes. Then they changed, visions finding their way in too, blending with the memories to become a swirling blizzard of images as past, present and future started assaulting him all at once.

_His brother's eyes upon him, gentle, compassionate, reassuring, telling him that everything's going to be alright. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is going to happen to you," he says._

"_I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again." His brother's voice is sincere, more vulnerable than he has ever heard it before. Still he speaks the words that he knows are going to break his heart. "Dean, we ARE a family. I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before." "Could be," his brother says wistfully. Then he delivers the final blow. "I don't want them to be. I'm not going to live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you're going to have to let me go my own way."_

_Flames, white-hot flames surrounding a body, an anguished scream resounding in his mind. Smoke swirling around the figure, sometimes thickening and moving closer, causing the figure to cry out in pain, sometimes hovering in front of the figure as if communicating with it, causing the figure to draw back, shaking its head in denial of what it is hearing. Sam recognises the figure's voice, he'd know his brother anywhere. The thought of him in hell is unbearable. _

_Swirling snow, a figure attacking him from above, throwing him to the ground. Then the image changes, and he sees the figure tearing into the hunter – Tony – drawing the life from him, revelling in his pain, his screams, his death. _

The significance of what he saw finally broke through to his conscious mind, and he struggled towards the surface, back towards consciousness. He felt a pair of hands on his face, and for a moment felt safe. _Dean is here, he's found me, everything is alright now. It's here, the thing, it's here…We have to stop it, Dean, we have to find it before… _Then alarm bells went off in his mind as he realised the hands were icy-cold, far from the warm, gentle touch of his brother. He forced his eyes to focus on what was before him instead of on the images that still tried to claim his attention and felt a stab of fear when he found himself faced with a woman with nearly-white hair, whose mere presence was enough to freeze him both physically and mentally.

He tried to pull back, sensing how she was trying to force her way into his mind, but she wouldn't let him go. She took a firm grip on his face, forcing him to face her again, and when she whispered "No, let me look," he felt her break through his last defences and enter his muddled mind as he slipped back into the grip of the visions and memories that swirled there, now uncontrollably holding him captive with her as an avid spectator to the torture he was suffering in his own mind.

_His brother's lifeless body lying in a pool of water, taser gun still in his limp hand. His relief when his CPR worked and his brother was still alive when the paramedics arrived. Then the image changed and instead of paramedics, huge black dogs came bounding down the stairs, tearing Dean from his grasp and disappearing in the blink of an eye, a red pool of blood on one of the stairs the last evidence of him. _

_Standing next to a hole in the ground where a casket he knew was empty was slowly being lowered. All thought had gone, all life in him disappeared as surely as the last trace of his beloved Jess had been burned away. Exactly the same way that his mother had been torn from their lives so many years before._

_A funeral pyre in the dark, in a lonely clearing in the woods. His brother beside him, his father before him in the flames. Then suddenly no one beside him, and a different body in the flames. _

And soon after, she was more than just a spectator as she went in deeper and opened the door further, forcing the past to dominate his mind, forcing the memories of his brother to come back to him. He moaned as the pain of her intrusion was added to the emotional pain the memories brought him.

"_If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to save you!"_

_A terrible pain in his head, a warm liquid sliding down his cheeks as the pain increased, making his brain feel as if it were about to explode, the mirror image of him saying scathing words that pierced his heart and made him feel he deserved what was coming to him. Then a figure beside him, glass shattering around him, a gentle pair of hands on his head and a worried voice calling his name. _

"_Sammy, I've got this. I'll do it." "No, she asked me to." His heart is breaking as he says the words, knowing what he's about to do. "Sammy, you don't have to." "Yes, I do." He's having trouble breathing, the tears are falling unhindered down his face. His voice is barely more than a whisper as he holds out his hand to get the gun. "Please…" He can't say another word, but his brother understands and hands him the gun, nodding his comprehension, showing his support. "Just wait here," he manages to say, then walks towards the room where a dark-haired woman is waiting. _

_Waiting for him to kill her. _

"_He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy!" Desperation, grief, pain in his brother's eyes at the terrible confession of their father's last words. _

_He's alone in a ghost town, or no, not alone, there's a man on the ground, he's about to kill him when something stops him from delivering the final blow. Then he hears the voice that makes everything alright, and he turns towards it, calling his brother's name, relieved that he's alive, wanting to tell him that things are ok, he didn't do it, he didn't fulfil the demon's plan, he turned away from his destiny, he's finally free. Then a white-hot pain in his back, the next thing he knows he's kneeling on the ground, Dean's anguished face and voice swimming in and out of his consciousness – or is it he who is swimming? Then there's only a dark void. _

_An emptiness inside him that not even the demon's death can fill as he realises what his brother has done for him. And at the same time a love and grief so intense that it's threatening to overwhelm him, but he forces it down and makes a promise that he intends to keep no matter what it will cost him. "You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. And I don't care what it takes, I'm going to get you out of this. Guess I've got to save your ass for a change."_

He struggled to escape the memories, his instincts screaming to him, telling him of the danger he was in. "No," he moaned, barely above a whisper. "My brother…" He tried to focus on the thought of Dean, to use it as an anchor in the whirlpool of images that kept pulling at him. Then all hope was torn from him as she moved deeper into his mind. The pain of the intrusion become almost unbearable as she grasped at the roots of his memories and started shaping them to her will. _No, please don't, please, Dean, I have to get to…He's my brother, NO! _With a final effort, his conscious mind fought to expel her from his mind, but he only managed to whisper a desperate "no," before his mind succumbed to her ancient powers and he was lost.

**Hilda**

The snow swirled around her as she left the hunter. His body steaming in the snow, the wisps of moisture carried away like spirits to the afterworld. He'd come as she requested, eager for pleasure. And there had been pleasure. She sighed, nearly perfect, his screams had been particularly satisfying. He'd accomplished his part of the game before he came to her. _It is good, hunter. You will be rewarded. _She walked away into the night, still tasting his blood. She'd been hungry, it had been days since her last feast and she'd been feeling the hunger. _Soon the brothers… _The cold was all-encompassing, she sighed, letting it flow into her, letting the wind catch her hair. It was a near perfect night.

A sound caught her attention. She walked along the edge of a building. It had been human. Someone in pain. She was curious. _Humans are weak, most of them. _The building was on the far end of town from the hotel and restaurant where she'd left the body of Tony Kramer. Running her hand along the ice-cold windows, she rounded the corner.

"Thank you, beloved one," she whispered, reverently. Sam Winchester was crouched against the wall, hands grabbing his head. Hilda walked forward and lifted his face, looking in his eyes. "Visions?" She recognized the unfocused look in his eyes. She'd known many seers and visionaries through the ages. _Some were a lovely treat. They once offered me…_The boy tried to pull from her grasp. "No, let me look." She crouched down beside him and put her hands on either side of his head. He couldn't resist. She slid easily into his mind.

Nightmare images assaulted her, she sighed as the pain and anguish washed over her. Memories and visions blended into an intricate knot. He didn't seem to know when memories ended and vision began. An idea suddenly blossomed, pleasure running through her body as the thought of another trial before the final moments.

She forced her way in further. He moaned, the invasion creating physical pain. Her breath came faster. _No, no, let me show you. _She let his memories rise to the surface, slowly, tantalizing him with fragments of his life. _Yes, right. _He moaned again, "no" whispering into the cold night. "My brother…" His voice was agonized as he grated the words out. _Yes, brother, but not for long. This time it will last. _As slowly as she had let him remember, she began tearing those chunks of his life away again. A nagging doubt raised its head, only briefly. _The spell shouldn't have slipped like this…Something about these two…I need to be careful. _

_Now, my hunter, look what you've done. _She layered in memories, some her own, some her imaginings. His hand, his knife, killing the hunter. Sam moaned again, a whispered "no" escaping his lips. She let go of him, he leaned against the wall, tears tracking down his face. She opened his bag, found a knife, a very distinctive knife, and pulled it out.

"Come, my hunter," she said, pulling him up. He took her hand and like a child let himself be led back through town. She stopped by the body of the hunter and handed Sam the knife. He took it, looking at it with a stunned expression. She smiled at him and grabbed his hand, knife and all, in a savage grasp and drove him down, pushing the knife into the body, letting the blood, now cold, splash on him. Sam could feel the icy drops as they splattered his face and dripped slowly down his cheeks.

When she was done she looked at him. He stayed on his knees, the stunned look still in his eyes. "Good, stay." She put her hand on his head again, he screamed in pain and dropped against the wall. "He'll find you soon," she sighed. "The game goes on." With a gentle kiss on the top of his head she walked away, aware of his blood on her hands, warming her where it touched her skin. _Soon, soon, soon._

**Dean**

Burning a body in a snowstorm proved to be quite a challenge. The wind blew the fire out three times, the snow made the flames fizzle and burn weakly. Dean kept adding gasoline, hoping he wouldn't blow himself up, but wanting to honor his friend. Eventually the blaze caught and the body burned slowly away. Dean stood watching, another funeral pyre coming to mind, the tears on his face not for Tony, but for the man he'd burned a year before. _Damn it, dad. _He sighed. The pain of that night was suddenly fresh, open, like a new wound. _What? _Somewhere lost in that memory was another, an awareness of a comforting presence beside him. _What the hell? My guardian angel? Yeah, right. Would be nice. If angels were real, and if any of them would look out for me. Right. _

He picked up his empty gas can and headed back towards the hotel and bar. He'd dragged Tony far enough away so the blaze would be partially hidden in the dark, stormy night. Like many small towns in the West, this one just fronted the main street, beyond that there was nothing. _Endless miles of nothing. _Dean looked into the dark, trying to see in the swirling snow. _Endless miles of nothing that can hide anything._

What Tony had told him played in his mind again and again. Sam, the man who'd saved his life, had somehow been responsible for opening the gate, for his father's death. _I still find that hard to believe, but face it, genius, he murdered Tony. Well, he butchered Tony. That wasn't simple murder. _Dean had seen many bodies over the years, but the violence with which Tony had met his end would haunt him for many years to come. _Been a long time since a body made me want to barf._

As he walked back, he planned out the next days. He'd head out of town in the direction Sam had taken. The storm was easing a little, but Dean figured his prey couldn't get too far, no matter how determined he was. _I'll head out tonight. I might be able to catch him on the road. Then what? That's easy. We talk, I kill. _Dean thought he saw something moving in the night, flitting on the edge of his vision. _What the hell? _He sped up his pace a little, not wanting to be ambushed.

The back of the hotel was finally in view. Dean walked around the corner and headed towards the Impala. When he saw the car he stopped. The back driver's side door was not closed tight. _I know I left her locked. _He jogged to the car and pulled the backdoor open. "What the hell?" he said out loud. _"I had a nightmare," a sleepy, frightened child's voice played in his head. "I knew it was safe here." _"What the hell?" he said again.

Sam was sprawled, unmoving, face down, across the backseat. _Saves me hunting the son of a bitch. Although the hunt…Are you demon or human? Doesn't matter, this ends now. _Dean grabbed Sam's feet and dragged him out of the car before turning him over. He pulled out his gun and aimed it carefully, his finger slowly easing the trigger down. _No, no, I need to find out what he knows first. Then he pays for Tony. Could he also be the one that killed Jack? Might fit. I need to know._

Sam moaned, Dean took a closer look at him. _What happened to him? Tony must have fought him. _The man had blood on his face and hands, there was a bruise on the side of his head and a small trickle of blood from a cut on his cheek. "That one's my fault," Dean said to the unconscious form. "Not sorry, though." Dean dragged him to his feet and tossed him over his shoulder, carrying him to the room, Dean dropped him onto the bed before going back to the car and getting rope out of the trunk.

By the time Sam groaned with returning consciousness, Dean had him tied securely to a chair. "Wakey, wakey," Dean said.

"I don't feel good, Dean," Sam said, his voice confused, trusting.

"It's okay, Sammy," The words were reflexive, Dean had a bottle of water in his hand and was walking towards Sam before he realized what he was doing. He stopped himself.

Sam lifted his head and met Dean's eyes, the confusion was there for another moment, then it was gone, replaced by something hard. "What am I doing here?"

"I thought we should talk," Dean said. "About my friend Tony." _And how you butchered him._

Something flared in Sam's eyes, then it was gone. "That the guy that wanted to shoot me?"

"Yep. He's dead."

"He is?" Sam asked conversationally, the light tone covering horror in his eyes.

"But you already know that," Dean growled.

"What do you mean? What's it got to do with me?"

"You killed him."

Anger rose like a flame in Sam's eyes. "Not me."

"Found your knife in him."

"Wasn't my knife," Sam said.

Dean backhanded him, the blow stinging his knuckles. "It's a pretty damned distinctive knife. I saw it in your bag."

"Wasn't me."

"You're covered in his blood."

"Not sure how that got on me," Sam said, the horror still in his eyes.

Dean hit him again. "Not good enough. My friends are dying. You appear and another dies. Someone who was going to help hunt that thing we met on the road."

"Not me."

"Did you know Jack?"

Brief recognition flashed. "Jack?" Sam raised innocent eyebrows. _That is so your lying-to-Dean face, Sammy. _Dean paused. _Where did that come from? _"I don't know a Jack." Sam insisted.

Dean struck again. "Yeah, you knew him, before you killed him. He was hunting that thing too. You're working with it."

"I saved your life back there," Sam said, blood running from his lip.

"Nice show." Dean snapped. "Tony told me about you, and now he's dead."

"Got nothing to do with me," Sam said, his face calm, his eyes wild.

Dean's hand lashed out again. "I think it does."

"Your hand hurt yet?"

"Nope." Dean smiled. "I took an aspirin before we started."

"It'll be a long night."

"Probably." Dean hit him again and pulled out his gun. "Maybe I can speed it up a bit. I'd rather get this over with and get some sleep."

"You can beat me, kill me and sleep? Just like that?" Sam looked at him, blood running over his face. "You're no better than the things we hunt."

"Yeah I am," Dean said, suddenly uncomfortable, hearing almost the same thing in his mind, in the same voice. He blinked. "Desperate times."

"I don't think so, Dean," Sam said. "It's not who you are," his voice softened, his eyes unfocused.

"What?" Dean snapped. He turned away and walked into the bathroom. The interrogation was beginning to get to him—something about Sam, something about what was happening. He splashed cold water on his face. _Since when do I do things like this? This hunt is getting to me, first Jack, then Tony and…_A ghostly image floated before his eyes, someone shouting his name, blood on hands and face. Dean concentrated, trying to get a better "look" at his memory. There was pain attached to the memory as well. _I was hurt, it was when I was in the hospital in Oregon. Wasn't that Jack? No…No, it was…_A knock on the door broke his train of thought.

"Go away," he shouted. "No sound," he growled at Sam.

"Housekeeping," a male voice called through the door.

"Don't need any, go away," Dean said, walking towards the door. His inner alarm had started jangling.

"Housekeeping," the voice repeated.

"They want to give you towels," Sam said.

"Shut up," Dean said as he walked past Sam. "We don't need anything." Dean reached the door and snapped the deadbolt into place.

The door exploded open. Dean was thrown back, over Sam, they both crashed to the floor. Dean saw the man come through the door, black eyes glittering in the lamplight.

"Friend of yours?" Dean said, pushing himself away from Sam.

"No," Sam said. "Cut me loose."

"Right." Dean looked at him. "Not." The demon grabbed Dean and tossed him against the wall. Before Dean hit the floor, the demon had him again, picking him up and slamming him into the other wall.

"Having fun yet?" Sam said from where he lay on the floor.

"Oh, yeah," Dean grunted as he slid down the wall and hit the floor. The man grabbed him again. Dean was lifted and tossed again, slamming into the bedside lamp. He felt the bulb shatter, bits of glass spraying his face. He pushed himself up, the demon was heading towards him. "Most fun I can have without shooting myself."

"Cut me loose, I can help."

"Help him?" Dean asked as the man picked him up and held him against the wall, hands slowly tightening on Dean's throat.

"No."

"Too late." Dean managed to get the words out, even through dark spots were dancing in front of his eyes and he couldn't draw a breath back in.

"No, Dean!" There was a desperate note in Sam's voice that Dean recognized, he wasn't sure what he was even recognizing, but the note resonated in him for a moment before the black spots started to combine into one large darkness. "Hang on," Sam said desperately. "_Exorcizo te, immundíssime spíritus, omnis incúrsio adversárii, omne phantasma…"_ Darkness closed in as Dean felt himself drop to the floor. Consciousness flickered for a moment. He could hear the demon hissing in pain and Sam's determined voice._ "Praecipio tibi, quicúmque es, spíritus immúnde, et ómnibus sóciis tuis hunc dei…" _The demon lashed out again, Dean felt the blow connect with his head. The last shred of consciousness brought the sound of Sam's voice, hard, cold as steel, still reciting the prayer, before Dean plunged into darkness.

_**To Be Continued**_


End file.
